


Don't Sleep Yet, My Darling

by EmeraldSage



Series: The Holiday Collection [16]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Away on Business, First Christmas Together, Fluff, Human AU, M/M, Prompt Day 16: Baking Cookies, RusAmeHoliday, christmas surprise, gingerbread, newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: RusAme Holiday Prompt #16: Baking Cookies/Desserts





	

**Author's Note:**

> I found it really sweet to write. I almost melted from the fluff. Enjoy!!!

**RusAme Holiday Prompt #16: Baking Cookies/Desserts**

            “ _We’ve got mistletoe and firelight, on this cold December night…_ ” a voice crooned through the radio, and he sighed as yet another romantic holiday song wound itself around his heart and tugged at the part of him that longed for another’s embrace.

            “ _The snow outside will set the mood, as I sing my song for you…_ ,”

            He glanced around the warm living room, where he’d curled himself up in the vibrant crimson armchair that his lover usually stole for himself. He’d picked it out though, and Ivan found it too comfortable to do more than fake a grumble or two. It was decorated lovingly, two hands having painted their fancy on their wonderful, cozy living room. The Christmas tree was settled into the corner between the wall with the fireplace and the window seat showing off their front lawn. It had been gently, albeit enthusiastically, adorned this year. Ornaments of different shapes and sizes tugged on evergreen boughs; some ornaments looked professionally made, others heartwarmingly tacky in a way that usually meant they hadn’t been. There were small photos of the two of them and their families that Alfred had cut out and pasted onto gently painted frames. The window besides it was lined in gleaming tinsel and lights. There were two stockings hung on the mantle above the gently crackling fireplace, one a soft blue his husband had chosen for him, and one a warm red he had made himself for his partner.

            His father’s knitting lessons had come in handy after all, he supposed. Though he doubted he’d ever tell the man that.

            There was a fuzzy blanket throw, holiday themed in pale green with sprigs of mistletoe lining it and snowflakes beaming, which had been sprawled across their beige l-shaped couch. He’d taken it when he’d moved to cozy up in his husband’s favorite armchair and wrapped himself within the clutch of its warmth. It was a poor substitute for what he wanted, but for now it would have to do.

            Since his husband couldn’t be there for their first Christmas together, newly married, in their new home.

**I’LL BE HOME THIS CHRISTMAS**

            He practically ran through the hotel’s unusually toasty hallways, dodging startled residents and jumpy bellhops as he made his way downstairs to check out. He wasn’t supposed to be leaving until Saturday, New Years Eve. But he’d argued fiercely with his bosses, claiming that they _really_ didn’t need him in Moscow, now did they? And in truth, the really didn’t. They were petty bastards, the pair of them; just because they had to be out on work over Christmas, they’d dragged along their higher rank employee who, in unanimous consensus, wanted to be anywhere else but the spite fest those two were throwing. After threatening to tank the negotiations, potentially losing his job (or not, they needed him, desperately), he’d snapped up the cheapest ticket he could manage – which was _still_ almost two thousand dollars – for a plane back to the states.

            A plane he was now running _late_ for.

            He caught a glimpse of a shuttle ready to depart, and he swore.

            “ _Hold the shuttle_!” he shouted at the bellboy in his native tongue, startling the younger man, before running to check out with lightning speed.

            He still barely made it.

**I’LL BE HOME WITH YOU TONIGHT**

            He stared at his phone morosely, regretting every second of the phone call he’d just made. Why had he thought he was depressed enough to call his father? He should’ve remembered what would’ve happened. His father, far from approving of the man his son had married, hadn’t been told about Ivan being called to work over the holiday. They’d decided it would inspire too much spite in the already tense relationship shared by father and son-in-law. He’d just wanted to know what they were up to, honest.

            He hadn’t expected the full hour rant his father had descended into when he’d inquired as to the reason for his odd behavior. He hadn’t, but he should have, really.

            At least Matthew had been there to divert their father’s attention. _Papa_ had been baking in the kitchen – their yearly army of gingerbread men that the entire neighborhood competed to get a hold of on Christmas morning, when their family went to mass – and probably would’ve made it worse.

            No, scratch that; he would’ve made it into a disaster. _Papa_ had been the only one to approve of Ivan from day one, even being a tad wary of the violet-eyed Russian. It had taken Matthew and Ivan bonding over hockey before his older brother had begun to tolerate the other, but even with his somewhat soft and reserved nature, Matthew was very fiercely overprotective when it came to his younger brother.

            Which translated into being fiercely aggressive to whoever said brother was dating. Or, married, in this case; especially when it had been a Las Vegas, spur-of-the-moment, drunken witnesses wedding that they shrugged off when people stared at them bug-eyed.

            His family had not been pleased. Ivan’s had toasted them merrily and then forced them to host a get together to celebrate the occasion.

            He sighed, shoving himself out of the delicious warmth of the armchair, and idly contemplated going to bed early. His face twisted into a frown; he’d never gone to bed early, and he wasn’t about to start now. It wasn’t even midnight!

            Hmm…maybe food? He could make a quick snack to eat, but then he’d be bored again and sink into depression, and probably make another mistaken phone call to his father, who’d then rant about Alfred’s irresponsibility, Alfred’s mistakes, Alfred’s _husband_ …you’re starting to see a pattern here, right?

            So, he thought deliberately, maybe something that took a while to make? Something warm, he decided divisively with a nod to himself. Maybe something to keep his hands busy? Something decorative, maybe some cookies…

            His face lit up.

**DON’T SLEEP JUST YET, MY DARLING**

            He was running. There was no way he was going to make the plane, as late as he was already, but goddamnit, he had to try! Alfred was at home, alone, on their first Christmas together as a married couple and that set a terrible precedent in his opinion. He already knew that his beloved had been planning a laundry list of things they could do together as the magical day approached. To be told, so last minute, that he’d have to leave, that they’d have to spend Christmas apart so early in their married life; it was heartbreaking, and as much as Alfred had tried to hide it – to show him that stubborn, brave face he put on for the rest of the world – he had seen how much that had hurt. Not to mention how bad it would look if it somehow slipped – and it would, he knew – and got back to Arthur about what had happened. He had already made a bad impression on Arthur, and Matthew, well, while the younger didn’t completely hate him, he wasn’t a very big fan of his. Francis was sometimes the only one on his side, and that was when he wasn’t making Alfred sad.

            So, even if Alfred didn’t completely hate him for leaving, then, well, he still had to deal with his in-laws.

            And that wasn’t going to be fun, at all.

            But, maybe he could make it on time. The airport corridors seemed to clear as he traversed the halls. Maybe he had a chance. He was still halfway across the airport, but as long as they were boarding…

            “ _Last call for one-way, full service to John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City, New York, United States of America. Repeat: Last call for all passengers. Flights connecting from New York include: Washington, DC, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Houston, Texas…_ ”

            He swore viciously and ran faster. Damnit, the whole world was trying to make him late!!!

**DON’T LET THE DREAMS YET TAKE FLIGHT**

            He slid the mitts from his hands and rubbed them together, eyeing the closed oven door with glee. There! The gingerbread cookies were set to bake. They’d only just begun, but they would be done within fifteen or twenty minutes, and he could already imagine the warm , cinnamon scent flooding their home, not unlike the batch of home style healing balm, the one his father had taught him how to make, had flooded their small apartment with the overwhelming scent of mint. Only this time, the memories were better, sweeter; filled with a positivity, love and warmth that could only come from the timelessness of old memories.

            Memories filled his mind: old childhood moments where his father would stop scowling and his _papa_ would laughingly try to stop the other man from trying to cook – rather unsuccessfully at that – and how Matthew, always so busy with his studies, his hockey, and his friends that didn’t like Alfred at all, would wrap him in a warm, firm hug and make sure that Alfred had no doubt whatsoever of his place in the other’s life.

            The scent of warm gingerbread was a balm on his already aching heart. Even if Ivan couldn’t be there, he wanted to be. Hopefully the other man was remembering him tonight.

            _Ivan_.

            God, he missed his husband.

            He sank back into the other man’s favorite chair, sniffing the undertone of scent that reminded him of cold nights when they would snuggle together in their tiny apartment, in their box room, with a small double bed that was nowhere near the size needed for two young men of above average height and decent musculature. It was only luck and love that Alfred was actually fairly slender, despite his broad shoulders, and they could both sleep comfortably if he was curled on top of Ivan just right. He remembered how much he’d enjoyed the position; the ability to tuck his head in the hollow of the other’s neck, and how Ivan would curl an arm around his waist to anchor him there, tucking his chin atop the golden crown of hair. They’d been totally immersed in each other, and they’d loved it.

            His husband was a little more subtle about it, and it had taken him a while to notice, but Ivan definitely had a tendency to sniff him whenever they’d been apart for a significant amount of time, or keep him close enough until their scents mixed again. Ivan would always relax when they were curled around each other. He did too; it was just how they were.

            Some would think it odd, but it was reassuring in a way that no one else had ever managed, and he doubted anyone else ever would.

            The timer went off on the stove top, and he made his way over to pull out the gingerbread cookies from the oven. He’d leave them out to cool before he would decorate them, he decided, biting back a yawn.

            He snuggled back down into Ivan’s chair, making sure the blankets were tucked firmly around him, before he began to nod off. The hearth warmed off to his side, and his head tilted against the back of the chair, eyes drooping.

            A soft snore drifted into the air.

**CAUSE I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS EVE**

            Ivan twitched nervously. The car was pulling up to his neighborhood, and it was easily barely past dawn. You could only the first break in the night sky, faint blues and pinks emerging from the horizon line, and he could only feel a surge of relief. It was Christmas morning, and he’d made it.

            It was Christmas morning, and he would spend it with his husband.

            His hands were shaking slightly, but there was nothing nervous about him. He was excited, he was worried about his beloved, but he wasn’t nervous. He knew Alfred was home, and he knew his beloved was probably sleeping right now. But he would be there. Just like he’d promised he would be.

**WE’LL SING CAROLS TILL MORNING’S LIGHT**

            He woke to a soft click and a creak coming from the entrance hallway, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and inhaling a soft puff of gingerbread scented air. The scent had faded slightly; the air had grown cold, and the fire had nearly died down to embers in the hearth. He could only faintly see the hues that preceded the dawn arriving, gleaming in the window alongside the twinkling sparkle of snowflakes.

            _It’s snowing_.

            Soft footsteps echoed in the hallway, urgent but careful, as if their owner was trying to keep in mind the god forsaken hour of the day; but they were also confident, unhesitant. They had ever right to be here.

            There was only one person he knew who walked like that this early in the morning.

            “Vanya?” he asked hoarsely to the air around him, barely audible, but the footsteps stopped. Something heavy dropped in the hallway, and for a moment, he wondered if it wasn’t actually Ivan and he’d just made a huge mistake in giving himself away…

            But pale ashy hair on top of vivid violet eyes rounded the corner into the living room, and he felt himself uncurl from the armchair and launch himself across the room without further adieu, joyful laughter bubbling up in his chest.

**ALL THAT MATTERS TO ME**

If anyone had been looking inside through the living room’s window, right next to the Christmas tree, they would’ve seen a golden blond young man shove a blanket to the floor and tackle another man, tall, pale, with vivid eyes that anyone would recall. The taller man hauled him up and whirled him around effortlessly, until the younger man shouted for him to _“put me down Ivan, I’m not a girl!”_ and proceeded to laugh helplessly, until the younger toppled them both backwards onto the beige couch.

And, perhaps, they would’ve noticed the almost subtly overwhelming scent of gingerbread coating the air, bringing out happy memories all around.

**IS THAT YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT**


End file.
